Iberia
by Wamyne
Summary: Spain x Portugal. This fic aims to tell the story behind the Iberian Union that happened in 1500. It's narrated from Portugal's point of view.


"Senhor, partirei. E traerei a vossa mercê toda a glória que lhe é merecida"  
**[** "Sir, I'll be taking my leave now. And I will bring you all the glory you're worthy of." **]**

"Obrigado, ciudadão da pátria. Prometo que caso seja bem aventurado, os seus actos serão recompensados e relembrados em gerações futuras. Agora, ide! Que Deus esteja convosco e os ajude a derrotar o tenebroso Cabo das Tormentas."  
**[** "Thank you, dearest citizen. I promise you that in the event that you are victorious, your deeds will be rewarded, and remembered in generations to come. Now, go! May God be with you and help you defeat the terrible Cape of Torments." **]**

With this he walked away.  
This would be Vasco da Gama's first voyage. Many explorers had already tried to find the route to India, but they had failed every time. "O Cabo das Tormentas", in other words, the Cape of Torments was the name sailors had given to the most Southern edge of the African Continent. Rumours spoke about a monster dwelling in those waters, which would cause every ship to sink... but, if legend or truth, fact remained that no one had ever managed to circumnavigate the cape and deny its existence.  
As he watched the ships being prepared, Portugal wondered if this were the voyage that would finally allow him to establish the route to the mythical land. India, the land of spices... spices that were even more valuable than pure gold! If successful, he would own all the trading routes and he would have the monopoly over the spices market... there was no easier way of granting sure income. This was his greatest wish and all his efforts had been directed to it in the past few decades, but attaining it had been difficult.

"Bem, seja como fôr, o império português será expandido... Que seja o que Deus quiser."  
**[** "Well, come what may, the Portuguese Empire will be expanded… Let it all rest on God's wish." **]**

**1497, Toledo**

"¡Señor, señor! ¡Le traigo novedades! Parece que los portugueses se han puesto en marcha otra vez. Rumo a la India."  
**[** "My Lord, my lord! I bring you news! It looks like the Portuguese are moving again. Towards India." **]**

Spain was sitting on his usual desk, holding a quill in his hand while skimming through some documents. Taxes of this, maps of that... the usual. His subordinate's report didn't startle him the slightest as news about his brother's expansion attempts were more than common in those days. He had to admit they weren't exactly his favourite kind of topic, but Spain had grown used to them. A little bit, at least. Besides, it wasn't like he was just sitting there, in his room watching his brother set sail, exploring and conquering the world. He too was busy expanding his own empire while pursuing the route to India. However, his empire still wasn't even close to what Portugal had already obtained.

"Le saldrá mal otra vez, seguro. Ya verás."  
**[** "He won't be successful again. You'll see." **]**

But something told him he shouldn't trust his own words too much this time. And that made him feel uneasy.

"Oi, stronzo. Piantala di pensare a ste stronzate che non contano 'na minchia e continua a fare quel che cazzo stavi facendo."  
**[** "Oi, idiot. Stop thinking about things that don't matter and carry on doing what you were doing." **]**

"Heh. Eres tan desagradable a veces, de verdad, Romano..."  
**[** "Heh. You're really so tiring sometimes, Romano..." **]**

**1499, Lisbon**

"Oh, senhor, que vos traigo boas novas! Não só Vasco da Gama chegou são e salvo à pátria, como que também descobriu o caminho marítimo para a Índia! A Índia, senhor! O vosso império chegou às Índias!!"  
**[** "Oh, my Lord, I bring you good news! Not only did Vasco da Gama arrive well to the country, but he also discovered the path to India by sea! India, my Lord! Your Empire has reached India!!" **]**

Those were the first words Portugal heard that morning. His people had reached India, his longtime dream… Finally!! The terrible Cape of Torments had been defeated, the route of spices set. He had been the first to accomplish it and he had beaten everyone else at it, including his brother. Oh, joy filled his body! It was all too good to be true.

"Chamai-o por favor! Terei de cumprir a minha promessa!"  
**[** "Please call him! I must keep my promise!" **]**

Vasco da Gama entered the room, his clothes still ragged from the trip. He moved towards Portugal in a slow, slightly unsteady walk while keeping his eyes on the floor. Even though he was a hero, someone who had accomplished one of biggest dreams of his own people, that joyous feeling wasn't reflected on his face. Instead, he carried the look of someone who had been defeated.

"Senhor, perdoai-me."  
**[** "My Lord, forgive me." **]**

Besides not being able to bring any trade goods from India, only two of the four ships that had set sail managed to arrive back in Lisbon. Only 55 men out of the 148 that had travelled with him survived the journey. Losses had been more critical during the return because of hunger or the ever so dreadful scurvy. Furthermore, Vasco da Gama had just returned from burying his brother in the Azores who had perished from illness.

Portugal looked up at him.

"Honrado cidadão. Todos sabemos que as grandes coisas não são possíveis de alcançar sem grandes sacrifíceos.  
Com isto não quero dizer que deva de esquecer todos os valentes marinheiros que partiram convosco na sua expedição. Oh, não. O ditado popular bem nos diz que "mais vale um pássaro na mão que dois a voar" e nós decidimo-nos aventurar pelos dois. Não nego que colhemos frutos, mas também há que reflectir no que perdemos... o que não foi pouco."  
**[** "Honourable citizen. We all know that great things aren't possible to achieve with great losses.  
I don't mean by this that you should forget all the courageous sailors that have set sail together with you on your expedition. Oh, no. The saying does go "better a bird in the hand than two flying" and we ventured for those two. I don't deny that we gained something out of it, but we also have to reflect on what we lost… and that wasn't little." **]**

He paused.

"Contudo, cumprirei a minha promessa. Disse que vos daria glória e os seus actos seriam recompensados e não o planeio esquecer. Sempre fui um homem de minha palavra e assim o continuarei a ser. Vossa mercê conseguiu levar a cabo um sonho que esta nação presseguia há não mais não menos que oitenta anos.  
Por isso, de esta forma, anunciarei que não só vão ser construidos monumentos em sua honra, como que também proclamo que le seja atribuído o título de _almirante-Mor dos Mares das Índias_. Para além disso, uma renda de 300 mil réis anuais que passará aos seus filhos e o título eterno de _Dom_."  
**[** However, I shall keep my promise. I have told you that I'd give you glory and your actions would be rewarded and I don't plan to forget about it. I always was a man of my word and so I will carry on being. You managed to fulfill a dream this nation pursued for no less than eighty years.  
Therefore, by this, I'll announce that not only will monuments will be built in your honour, as I also proclaim that you should be awarded the title of _admiral of the Indian seas_. Furthermore, you'll be given a 300 thousand réis yearly income which you'll pass on to your children as well as the title of _Dom_." **]**

This was one of the greatest honours you could achieve at the time. Vasco da Gama was flabbergasted with everything he heard, finding it almost too hard to believe it was real. It was as if Portugal had forgiven him for all his losses.

"Obrigado, senhor."  
**[** "Thank you, my Lord." **]**

And this was how the Belém Tower started being built.

**1499, Toledo**

"Señor, lo han conseguido."  
**[** "My Lord, they were successful." **]**

"Ya lo sé. Había algo dentro de mí que ya me lo estaba anunciando."  
**[** "I know. There was something inside me that thought as much." **]**

Spain stood next to the window, holding a glass of sangría. The blazing afternoon sun pierced through the window and burned his skin. Yet he didn't move away. In fact, he didn't even turn when his servant brought the announcement. The reflection on the glass gave the sangría a stronger reddish colour making it worthy if its name.  
"¿Señor…?"  
**[** "My Lord…?" **]**

"Gracias, ya te puedes ir."  
**[** "Thank you, you may take your leave now." **]**

The servant bowed and closed the door behind him.  
Romano looked over at Spain more than prepared to bash at him with his fists, as usual, and call him an idiot, but when he was about to speak he quickly bit his lip and swallowed his words. This wasn't the first time Romano saw Spain like this.

"Ya veremos de cuanto te va a servir Tordesillas, _hermano mío_."  
**[** "We'll see how much you can gain with Tordesillas, _my brother_." **]**

**1578, Lisbon**

"D-Desapareceu?!"  
**[** "He disappeared?!" **]**

Portugal almost fell out of his chair upon receiving such news.  
Sebastian I, his king, had disappeared without a trace in the battle of Alcácer-Quibir. No one could confirm if he was still alive, or if he'd already passed away. Just one thing could be said for sure: Sebastian had vanished.

"Mas como?! É impossível! Assim…"  
**[** "But how?! It's impossible! Then…" **]**

Portugal's situation couldn't get any worse. Not only had his king of only 24 years disappeared… but, to make matters worse, he had disappeared without leaving an heir.

"Não, não pode ser! Tem de haver alguém!"  
**[** "No, no, it can't be! There must be someone!" **]**

He ran to his study room, flying towards the shelf where he kept all of the genealogy trees that he had noted down throughout the times. Portugal threw a pile of documents onto his table and erratically skimmed through them looking for the correct piece of paper. Genealogy trees flew all over the place. He wouldn't believe it. He just wouldn't accept it. Throughout all these years he had made sure that kings and queens married into different families to guarantee the lineage. Marriages, marriages and more marriages… too many to even be able to keep track of properly. There just had to be someone, for Christ's sake!

"Ah, aqui estás!"  
**[** "Ah, here you are!" **]**

Portugal folded out the parchment with the current age's genealogy tree. He let his finger slide following the lines, pointing out the names, following other lines… Every time he stumbled upon a name he felt as if a stone had been lifted off his heart. However, once he had an overview of all his candidates and had fully grasped his situation he stepped back, barely managing to rest his back against the wall.

"Não. Não pode ser…"  
**[** "No. It can't be…" **]**

He stood there with his back against the wall and a hand on his face. Blocked. Not knowing what to do.  
It was all too very surreal.

Once he finally got a hold of himself he ran back to the main hall where his subordinates were.

"Façai o cardeal D. Henrique o nosso rei, por agora! É a nossa única solução! E no meio disto tudo mandai uma carta ao papa para libertá-lo dos seus votos e assim poder assegurar a dinastia! Rápido, que o tempo urge!"  
**[** "Make the Cardinal Henry our king for now! It's our only solution! And in the midst of this all, send a letter to the pope so that he may be released of his clerical offices and assure the lineage! Quickly, time's against us!" **]**

As everyone ran off, Portugal just let his arms fall onto the table. It was like he was living though a nightmare. For all these centuries he had been able to assure lineage, have kings and queens reigning. And yet now, all of sudden, he was lost.

Outside, fog gathered over the Tagus.

"D. Sebastião, esperá-lo-ei."  
**[** "Sebastian, I'll be waiting for you." **]**

Looking out of the window, those were the only words Portugal could say at that moment.

**1580, Madrid**

"¿O sea que Portugal sigue sin heredero?"  
**[** "Portugal is still without an heir?" **]**

Two years had passed since Sebastian I's death. Now, to add to that, Henry had also perished without an heir thus leaving Portugal's throne empty once again.

"Ay, mi Portugalín, qué mal lo estás pasando…"  
**[** "Oh, Portugal, what bad times you're going through…" **]**

Spain had now moved to Madrid and was enjoying life in his new capital. It wasn't that far away from Toledo, but a change of sights always felt nice. He had been following occurrences in Portugal quite intently in the past few years and recently they were, quite frankly, rather pleasing. Never would he have imagined developments could prove so favorable. Or, indeed, attractive.  
His brother was wavering; the pedestal on which he stood was slowly but steadily crumbling. If not now, when would he ever get such a chance again?

"Romanito, le voy a hacer una visita a mi hermano. Luego volveré."  
**[** "Romano, I'm going to pay my brother a visit. I'll be back later" **]**

Holding Romano's head he kissed his forehead gently while smiling at him.

"Se un buen chico mientras tanto, ¿vale?"  
**[** "Be a good boy until then, ok?" **]**

The last thing Romano saw of Spain that day was him putting on his coat and letting his axe rest over it.

"Quello li non era Spagna."  
**[** "That wasn't Spain." **]**

After all, in the midst of all the candidates there was also one of his very own: Felipe II of Spain.

**1580, Lisbon**

It was the 25th of August, and dusk was falling upon Lisbon. The sky was cloudless, in tones of red and yellow warning of another hot night to come. As Portugal rested against the terrace wall of the Belém Tower, he let his gaze follow the sun as it reflected itself in the Atlantic, gradually disappearing into it, becoming one with it. It was a picture that would soothe every soul. The warm colours, the bright light… one would say just an end of an ordinary summer day…

If it weren't for the wounds Portugal was carrying.

On that very same day Lisbon had been invaded by Spanish troops and battle had ensued. They had come from both land and sea, and even though Portugal held the advantage of the battle taking place in his own territory, he hadn't been prepared for it… not under his current circumstances. Without a set king his forces were disorganized and confused. They fought… he had fought with them… but they had lost. Just more deaths in vain.

"¡Ah, qué buen día hace hoy!"  
**[** "Ah, what fine day it is today!" **]**

Spain's clear voice echoed over the terrace. Portugal didn't even turn back. That voice, that laughter, that way of talking… he could easily tell they belonged to his brother. He was far too familiarized with Spain to ever forget his mannerisms, even if the two of them had spent a great amount of time without seeing each other. They were brothers, after all.  
Portugal could feel Spain drawing closer to where he was leaning. The metal boots he was wearing resounded stronger against the limestone pavement with every step he took. Spain was walking on his tower. The tower he had built to celebrate his victory against the forces of the sea that were far greater than those that any country could represent.

"De verdad, qué suerte tienes de vivir aquí. Cerca del mar, en la desembocadura del Tajo…"  
**[** "Really, you're so lucky to live here. Next to the sea, at the mouth of the Tagus…" **]**

Spain was now leaning against the same wall, next to him, allowing his gaze to lose itself in the horizon as he spoke these words, just resting there as if nothing had happened on that day. Like an idyllic reencounter between brothers after some years.  
Portugal couldn't find a way to gather his words. He had only seen his brother on the battlefield that day, but now that he had a closer look at him, he saw how big he had become… and yet how that innocent smile of his was still imprinted on his face. Spain was resting his head against his hand while the soft breeze of the river made his hair dance to it. Yes, that was him alright. No doubt about that. His little brother…  
But that _little brother_ was carrying an axe on his back, still red from the bloodshed… reeking of carnage.  
Portugal clutched his hands against the wall, trying to repress the anger. He was feeling the urge to fight that creature, defeat him, and send him back home to where he belonged. But he couldn't… he was too weak to do so. The wall and his pride were the only two things that were making him stand.

"Por cierto, hermano. Estuve mirando esta torre tan chula que construiste tú aquí y estaba pensando para mi mismo… ¿a que sería una buena prisión?"  
**[** "Oh, that's right brother. I've been having a look at this gorgeous tower you built, and I was thinking to myself… wouldn't it just make a great prison?" **]**

Portugal twitched. He didn't just hear that. Spain hadn't placed his hand on his shoulder while saying those words… No… it didn't happen… Spain hadn't just suggested turning the tower, a monument of national pride, the tower that he'd been using as both a fortress and a store for something as precious as the spices from India, into a prison. No…  
His mind went blank that moment.  
Out of instinct, or wrath, he grabbed the little dagger that he always carried and went for Spain. Before he had a chance to attack, however, two soldiers of the Spanish army stopped him. Where they had suddenly come from he didn't know, and he didn't care. His only wish was that his brother disappeared from his sight that very moment.

"¡Joder! ¡Nadie diría que todavía me tenías tantas ganas dentro de ti, Portugal! Bueno, bueno, llévenselo por favor. Ah, y cúrenle las heridas también. No quiero que el tío vaya por ahí desangrándose."  
**[** "Fuck! Who would have guessed that you'd still have it in you, Portugal? Ok, ok, please just take him away. Oh, and tend to his wounds too. I don't want that that guy going around, losing blood." **]**

He tried to fight off the men as they dragged him away, but they were holding his arms too tightly. The more he fought, the weaker he felt…

"¡Tendrás el honor de estrenarla, hermano!"  
**[** "You'll have the honour of being the first, brother!" **]**

Those were the last words Portugal heard before losing consciousness.

When Portugal was regaining consciousness he heard the sound of water. It was the murmur of the current, and the sound of waves clashing together. One after the other.  
Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on his back upon a bed, in a dimly lit room. Thanks to the lonely candelabrum that shed some light into the room he saw the room was all made out of limestone, and quite empty. Apart from the bed his eyes just managed to pick out a wine-red sofa, a fireplace and a door as the other three elements composing the room.  
He was sure of it now. He was still in the tower.  
He tried to move but his body hurt. Having his arms folded against his back wasn't all that comfortable though… He tried again… but no luck. Once more. It was then that he felt the ropes pressing against his back. Both his hands and feet were tied.

"Era o que mais me faltava..."  
**[** "This was really what I was looking forward to…" **]**

Portugal sighed. He tried to release himself but the ropes were too tight. As expected…

"¡Ah, buenas! ¿Ya volviste del más allá?"  
**[** "Oh hello! Have you returned from the other world now?" **]** Spain asked as he opened the door and looked inside. Wearing his usual everyday outfit, he invited himself into the room, closing the door behind him.

"¿Qué tal te encuentras?"  
**[** "How are you feeling?" **]**

He sat on the edge of the bed.

"De maravilha, sem dúvida."  
**[** "Amazingly well, no doubts about that." **]**

"¿Por?"  
**[** "Why?" **]**

"Ah, não faço a minima, realmente... Talvez por ter cordas à volta dos braços e das pernas e estar aqui deitado, contigo sentado ao meu lado. Mas suponho que seja só eu com coisas, claro."  
**[** "Ah, I really have no idea… Maybe because I have ropes around my arms and legs and for the fact that I'm lying here, with you sitting next to me. But I suppose it's just me imagining things, naturally." **]**

Thoughts about how much worse that day could get filled Portugal's mind. He had gotten to a stage where he just wanted to be left alone, resting in peace, recovering from his wounds.

"¡Jaja! Sigues tan sarcástico como siempre."  
**[** "Haha! You're as sarcastic as always." **]**

Spain paused and looked into Portugal's eyes. He smiled and put his hand on his brother's cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

"Ay, hermano… Quién te vio y quién te ve. Eras tan grande y mírate ahora… cómo te has dejado caer."  
**[** "Oh brother… "What would people say, if they could see you now? You were so great and now look at you … how you've let yourself fall." **]**

"Acho que uma certa pessoa tem alguma coisa a ver com toda esta situação..."  
**[** "I think there's a certain person who has a lot to do with this situation..." **]**

"¿Pero de qué vas? Podrías perfectamente haber escogido a Veneziano para ser tu rey, pero no lo hiciste."  
**[** "What are you talking about? You could have easily chosen little Veneziano to be your king, but you didn't." **]**

"Claro que não. Ele é demasiado pequeno para se meter nestas coisas."  
**[** "Of course not. He's too young to have to deal with these matters." **]**

"¿Pequeño? No es que Romano se queje mucho de vivir conmigo-"  
**[** "Young? It isn't like Romano complains about living with me much-" **]**

"Isso pensas tu."  
**[** "That's what you think." **]**

"O sea, que preferiste quedarte en una situación de inestabilidad a escoger a Veneziano. Todo porque era demasiado chico. Portugalín, que valor tienes."  
**[** "So, basically, you preferred to stay in an unstable situation instead of choosing Veneziano, all because he was too young. Portugal, what values you have." **]**

"Eu não sou da tua laia."  
**[** "I'm not like you." **]**

"Bueno, lo que sea. Reconozco que tampoco es que me preocupe demasiado el tema. La gente acaba siempre haciendo lo que yo quiera de una manera o de otra."  
**[** "Oh well, whatever. I admit that I'm not really bothered much by it. People always end up doing what I want one way or the other." **]**

Spain stretched himself as he said this. As his hands fell down onto his lap, both of the brothers just stayed still for a moment. Waves ebbing outside.

"Se D. Henrique tivesse tido descendência tudo isto..."  
**[** "If Henry'd had descendents all of this would..." **]**

Portugal bit his lip.

Spain started laughing, progressively getting louder, and louder.

"¡JAJAJAJA! ¡Hermano, por Dios! ¡Hay que ser más listo a veces!"  
**[** "HAHAHAHA! Brother, for Christ's sake! One has to be smarter at times!" **]**

Portugal looked up at his brother with an incredulous expression.

"A ver, Portugal ¿pero será posible que no estés al corriente de las cosas? El papa, Gregorio XIII, es un aliado de los Habsburgos, tonto."  
**[** "Come on, Portugal… is it possible that you aren't aware of how things currently are? The pope, Gregory XIII, is allied with the Habsburgs, silly." **]**

Just… what?! Portugal's mind jumped from a state of confusion, to anger, to rage.

"ESCUMALHA! A CULPA FOI TODA TUA ESTE TEMPO TODO!"  
**[** "YOU SCUM! IT WAS YOUR FAULT ALL THIS TIME!" **]**

Learning the truth so bluntly made him rage with hatred. His brother had been the one pulling the strings behind it the whole time. He was the one responsible for it all... all his instability, all his troubles, everything. And when it became favourable, he simply invaded and claimed Lisbon for himself. Nothing more, nothing less.

"SEU COBARDE, SUA BESTA!"  
**[** "YOU COWARD, YOU BASTARD!" **]**

Spain looked down on his brother as he snarled at him, squirming on the bed in any way he could. Hatred burned in his eyes, it was plastered all over his face. The anger had literally driven him insane.

And with this Spain grabbed Portugal's neck and firmly pressed his mouth against his.

It was something that Portugal wasn't expecting. He halted for a moment, trying to grasp what was going on. Spain was too very close to him, right above him, kissing him. What the heck was going on now? His breathing got heavier until he just shut his eyes and started shaking his head violently. But Spain would just press harder… both his hand and his mouth.  
He continued squirming until he eventually managed to bite Spain's lower lip. He was biting it so strongly that Spain couldn't move away… but the retaliation was a direct punch into his face.

"Portugal, que para niñeces ya me basta con Romano."  
**[** "Portugal, Romano's already more than enough for childish things." **]**

"Desaparece."  
**[** "Disappear." **]**

Portugal looked in the opposite direction. His brother had just made the whole situation much worse. Why had he suddenly kissed him? What was that all about? Yes, sure, he remembered screaming at him but…

"Hermano."  
**[** "Brother." **]**

He refused to even budge.

"¡Hermano!"  
**[** "Brother!" **]**

Portugal looked sideways at him just to see Spain looking intensely into his eyes.

"Hermano ¡escúchame, por favor!"  
**[** "Brother, please listen to me!" **]**

"Fedelho…"  
**[** "Brat…" **]**

"Ya te dije que pararas con eso."  
**[** "I've already told you to stop with that." **]**

He paused.

"Portugal, sólo… te pido una cosa. Piénsatelo."  
**[** "Portugal, I… just want to ask a single thing from you. Think it over." **]**

"O que queres?"  
**[** "What do you want?" **]**

Spain let his body slide over his brother's placing himself on the same level.

"Hermano, imagina lo que conseguiríamos si fuésemos uno."  
**[** "Brother, imagine what we could achieve if we were one." **]**

Those were the words he muttered into Portugal's ear. Slowly and in a sweet tone of voice.

"Já te disse que jamais."  
**[** "I've already told you never." **]**

Spain just sighed.

"Ya sé que siempre has sido un cabezota toda tú vida. Pero, de verdad…"  
**[** "I knew you always were a stubborn one. But, honestly…" **]**

He placed himself in front of Portugal.

"…no me vas a negar que ya fuimos uno cuando vivíamos con nuestro abuelo."  
**[** "…you're not going to contradict me when I say that we already were one when we lived with our grandfather." **]**

Both their foreheads were touching now. True, Portugal couldn't deny such a thing. When they were children they had lived under the same roof, and had shared everything. The same blood ran in their veins. It had been Portugal who had one day decided to abandon the house in order to seek his own life.

"Mas desde quando é que isso equivale a que o façamos também agora?"  
**[** "Since when does that equate to where we are now?" **]**

"Porque... cosas como Tordesillas no tienen sentido."  
**[** "Because... things like Tordesillas just don't make any sense." **]**

"Sim, tu o que queres é o meu império. A Índia. Até aí já cheguei."  
**[** "Yes, what you're after is my empire. India. I'm more than aware of that." **]**

"Qué gracioso eres, Portugal."  
**[** "You're so funny, Portugal." **]**

Spain kissed him on the cheek, barely touching his skin.

"¿Por qué dividir el mundo a la mitad si lo podemos gobernar entre los dos? _Juntos_."  
**[** "Why should we divide the world in two halves when the two of us can rule over it? _Together_." **]**

Portugal felt as Spain nuzzled against his hair. Kissing his head sometimes and then moving away. There was no doubt that ruling the world together sounded tempting enough and with Spain cuddling him it was getting harder and harder to reject the offer. But accepting it also meant to lose his independence… the independence he had worked so hard to get, and had maintained for all these centuries…

"Portugal, sabes a sal."  
**[** "Portugal, you taste like salt." **]**

Spain was biting one of his curls, twirling it inside his mouth.

"…é do mar…"  
**[** "…it's from the sea…" **]**

"Sí, ya lo sé."  
**[** "Yes, I already know that." **]**

And then Spain neared their lips again. Both felt the breathing on one another for a moment, this time getting calmer little by little. He opened his mouth slightly as if to kiss, but stopped and backed away some centimeters when his brother shuddered. He looked at him again. Portugal had his eyes slightly closed, and his cheeks hid a slight tone of red.  
He kissed him. Again.  
Portugal twitched a little but then stopped. His brother had always been a very good kisser. Natural talent, perhaps, but Portugal had never managed to match him there. Every time Spain had kissed him, it was as if he had the ability to instantly calm him down… making him forget about everything. He hadn't changed at all.  
When he stopped, he gave little kisses to Portugal's lips, drawing out the contour of his mouth. He would occasionally touch his older brother's lip with his tongue, just to quickly pull it back in again.

"¿Ya?"  
**[** "Already?" **]**

Portugal didn't mutter a word: he couldn't. He could feel as Spain's hand ventured under his shirt and touched every single bit of his chest, playing with his chest hair, kissing him on the neck at the same time. Everything was feeling too good; his body temperature was rising… his pride replaced with pleasure…  
He was giving in.

"Ah, que todavía tienes esta cosa."  
**[** "Ah, you still have this thing on." **]**

Spain was touching the ropes around his arms. Getting up, he untied the ones around Portugal's legs first- it was such a nice feeling to get released from those things, Portugal thought distantly- then he put his arms around Portugal's waist and moved him up against him.

"¿Puedo confiar en tí?"  
**[** "Can I trust you?" **]**

"Tu é que sabes…"  
**[** "You're the one who knows that…" **]**

Portugal was resting his head on Spain's shoulder. The younger brother caressed his hair as he hugged him.

"Hermano…  
Así como el Tajo no puede tener una fuente sin una desembocadura…  
También yo te quiero conmigo…"  
**[** "Brother…  
Just like the Tagus can't have a source without a mouth…  
I also want you to be with me…" **]**

As they sat in that hug, Portugal closed his eyes. What Spain saying was… right… in a way. Besides of being brothers they had originally been one… so…  
He turned his head towards Spain and kissed him on the cheek. Spain smiled and hugged him tighter in response.  
His hands untied the ropes around his older brother's arms leaving Portugal free again.

"Ai, que adormeceram."  
**[** "Ow, they went numb." **]**

Portugal's hands had gone numb from lying on them for all this time with Spain on top of him.

"Un poco pronto para quedarse dormidas, ¿no?"  
**[** "A little bit too soon to "fall asleep", no?" **]**  
Note: The Portuguese/Spanish expression "to go numb" is "to fall asleep".

Spain took his brother's right hand to his mouth. He licked the palm and then the back of the hand as a whole, before moving onto the fingers gradually placing them into his mouth, one, by one, giving them little bites, and using his tongue to play with them.

"Sim, agora já te sinto, palerma."  
**[** "Yes, I can feel you now, silly." **]**

"Realmente… siempre tienes que llamarme esas cosas."  
**[** "Honestly… you always have to call me such things." **]**

They smiled and kissed again.  
Both let their tongues twirl, their kisses getting more intimate.

"Ven."  
**[** "Come." **]**

Spain had gotten off the bed and was pulling Portugal by his arms, as the other followed him.  
Both stood front to front, very close to each other. In that moment, Portugal finally saw that his little brother had surpassed him and was taller than him now, despite being the younger one.  
Once more, Spain slid his hand under his brother's shirt while kissing him, Portugal, this time, doing the same. He touched his brother's skin, felt his back, his shoulder, his chest… Spain felt so different from when they were little. Eventually he grabbed his brother's shirt and undressed him, leaving his torso bare.

"Vejo que ainda o usas."  
**[** "I see you still carry it." **]**

"Y tú también."  
**[** "And you, too." **]**

Spain was holding Portugal's crucifix under the shirt. Their grandfather, Rome, had given it to them as a parting gift, and the brothers wore it as a necklace with a chain attached to it. It was their most treasured possession.

Between kisses, they carried on undressing each other. Shirts, pants, they got rid of everything. Everything but the pendants.

The more they kissed and rubbed against each other, the more they got hard. Bare naked, they allowed lust to take over them.

It was then that Spain put his hand on Portugal's neck and whispered in his ear.

"Házmelo."  
**[** "Do it to me." **]**

Portugal stopped for a moment and looked down to the floor. Sinking down, kneeling first with his right knee and then with his left, he found himself face to face with his brother's penis. He looked at it and, before thoughts invaded his mind, he shut his eyes and put it inside his mouth.  
With his right hand he held it while he used his tongue to encircle it. Sometimes going back and forth, he retracted the foreskin with his fingers and then played with it in his mouth. Spain eventually placed his hand on his brother's head and guided it back and forth when his brother made the movement, pulling at Portugal's hair and shivering as a chain-reaction of feeling warned of too much pleasure. Portugal carried on regardless. He didn't care if his hair was being pulled or not because it he'd found the soft spot. If Spain pulled his hair too much, he would just bite it slightly to make him loosen his grip. All the while he used his left hand to play with the testicles, making circles with his finger on Spain's leg. Spain was progressively getting harder and harder…  
…and so was he.

"P-Para, para..."  
**[** "Stop, stop…" **]**

Spain went back some steps, just to get away from his brother's mouth, despite Portugal still holding it with his right hand.  
He looked around the room.

"Levantate ya."  
**[** "Get up." **]**

After letting go of it and getting onto his feet, Spain placed his hands on Portugal's shoulders and kissed him. He was kissing him more passionately now, almost eating him up.  
He made his brother walk backwards until Portugal hit something soft with the back of his leg. Spain made him turn around and, putting his hand on Portugal's back, he made him bend over.  
Without a moment's pause, Spain grabbed his penis and penetrated him.  
Portugal had already seen it coming. He cried out the same time as he twitched and grit his teeth. It hurt, but he chose to bury his face in his arm trying to forget the pain as Spain fucked him. Spain was doing it quite violently, moaning every time he entered.  
Portugal clutched his brother's arm more, and more tightly, but it only caused Spain to fuck him harder, penetrating deeper with every push. There was no use talking to him, let alone trying to make him stop.  
At the same time, Portugal's penis was rubbing against the sofa, his stomach following the movements… too many sensations were piling and mixing themselves up inside of him.

"Qué bueno… estás… Portugalín…"  
**[** "You feel… so nice… Portugal…" **]**

He thrust into him faster, and faster, sweat droplets falling onto Portugal's back.  
Every time he hit his prostate, Portugal would breathe out… and moan. His entire body was shivering. His wounds were hurting him all the more.  
Spain held himself on the sofa trying to not lose his balance while he carried on fucking his brother. He didn't give a damn about anything else, his whole mind was fixed on that sole act. He was trying to make the most of it, fucking him so much, and so hard until he just couldn't last anymore. The battle had worn him out, and his resistance was wearing out fast. He had to come.  
So he did.  
Exhausted, he let himself fall on his brother's back. Both were breathing heavily and the couch was saturated with their sperm.

"Creo… que será mejor… que nos acostemos…"  
**[** "I think… it's better… if we lie down on the bed…" **]**

Portugal looked at him and started laughing. So did Spain. Both of them were laughing their hearts out as they dragged themselves back to the bed.  
They let themselves fall onto it and fell asleep moments after.

Dawn hadn't come yet when Portugal woke up.  
As he sat up he observed that he was both naked, and sharing a bed with his brother. Spain slept soundly next to him, most likely still immersed in his dreams. Portugal threw his hands to his face and remained like that for a while.

Outside, the Tagus was playing its melody. The waves, the stream… sounds that Portugal was so very used to. They filled his conscience as if they had a life of their own. Like they were calling out to him.  
He stood up. Moving along the walls he managed to find a piece of clothing, and eventually reached the door, finding it open. Spain had probably forgotten to lock it when he had entered…  
Judging from the number of staircases Portugal had to go down, it looked like they had been in the second floor of the tower; the King's room.  
With great effort he managed to get to the main door that would lead him outside.

"¡Ey, tú! ¿Qué crees que haces?"  
**[** "Hey, you! What do you think you're doing?" **]**

Two Spanish guards came his way. They were armed and prepared to fight.

"Só… vou ao Tejo…"  
**[** "Just… going to the Tagus…" **]**

"¿Al Tajo? ¿Qué vas a hacer al rio en medio de la noche?"  
**[** "The Tagus? What are you going to in the river in the middle of the night?" **]**

"Deixai-me ir, por favor."  
**[** "Please let me go." **]**

"Pero quién crees que eres-"  
**[** "Who do you think you are-" **]**

He was interrupted by the other guard.

"Míralo. ¿Crees que se va a ir muy lejos tal y cómo está ahora?"  
**[** "Look at him. You think he will really get far as he is now?" **]**

The guard looked at him and grinned.

"Sí, pobre alma... vete al Tajo. Pero no te ahogues que no quiero tener que cavarte una tumba."  
**[** "Yes, you poor soul… go to the Tagus. But don't drown because I don't want to have the work of digging you a grave." **]**

"Obrigado."  
**[** "Thank you." **]**

The guard opened the door and allowed Portugal to step outside.

The Tagus was calmer than usual. Its usual vigorous stream was hardly noticeable, and the waves had disappeared. It was almost as if it were inviting him in.

Portugal dived into it.

Water was, for Portugal, in some ways like his natural environment: a place, where he was able to find his peace and be at rest. That moment his only wish was to be one with it so that the Tagus could clean away everything he had gone through that day, and take it far away, out to the Atlantic.

_"Hermano…__  
__Así como el Tajo no puede tener una fuente sin una desembocadura…__  
__También yo te quiero conmigo…"__  
__**[**__ "Brother…__  
__Just like the Tagus can't have a source without a mouth… __  
__I also want you to be with me…" __**]**_

Those words kept repeating themselves inside his head. Yes, Portugal had known Spain was one of the candidates to the throne since the very beginning, but Spain also stood behind the one person Portugal wouldn't ever wish to see sitting on his throne.

And yet he had allowed him to fuck him.

"Os amigos podem-se escolher, mas a família não... não é isso que se costuma dizer?"  
**[** "You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family… isn't that how it goes?" **]**

He couldn't tell if he was crying or if it was the water that was wetting his eyes anymore. He felt mortified… a humiliation to his own people. Not even the water was able to wash away his mistakes.

"Bolas, Inglaterra, seu paspalho! Porque é que me deixas sempre sózinho quando eu preciso mais de ti?"  
**[** "Dammit, England, you twat! Why do you always leave me alone when I need you the most?" **]**

Spain was looking out of the window, down towards the river. He observed his brother bathing as the bright reflection of the moon shone down on him.

"Hermano. Si piensas que soy cómo tu amado te equivocas."  
**[** "Brother. You're wrong if you think that I am anything like your most beloved." **]**

**------------------------  
**

Author's Notes:  
- Portugal's actions are based on how both nobility and the population felt towards Spanish rule. Nobility was in favour and the population wasn't very fond of the idea, but ended up accepting it in the end.  
- Spain's last sentence is based on the fact that despite Portugal and Spain having the same King, Spain and Portugal remained separate kingdoms throughout the Iberian Union.  
- Veneziano is mentioned because Reanuccio I, who later on became the Duke of Parma, was one of the candidates for the Portuguese throne. The reason he wasn't chosen was because he was only 11 years old at the time.  
- The Tagus is the longest river on the Iberian Peninsula.  
- The Belém Tower was used as a fortress/storage place until 1580, when Lisbon was invaded by Spanish troops. During the next centuries, the tower was mainly used as a political prison.  
- The Treaty of Tordesillas (1494) was signed by the Catholic Monarchs and was meant to fix the line to divide the New World between Spain and Portugal.  
- There is a traditional folktale that Sebastian will return on a foggy early morning to lead Portugal once more, to greatness, as leader of the Fifth Empire.


End file.
